


Desert Wolf

by Akaisha_Loire



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Nick, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, More Fluff, Pack Relations, Wolf!Nick, beta!Troy, cuddling and fluff, human!Troy, minor homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaisha_Loire/pseuds/Akaisha_Loire
Summary: Troy finds a wolf, running through the desert.Nick finds a human, driving through the desert.





	Desert Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's so many of you, but I'm basically gifting this to all my wonderful peeps from the Trick discord who thought of the dialogue that inspired this mess of a fluff fest. I honestly appreciate ya'll so much! So I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Essentially, this is what happens when we spend to many days talking about Wolfy!Trick.

It happens while Troy is out on a drive.

He does that when he’s angry, needs to get away before he does something he can’t take back--not regret, never regret. It helps to just get in his beat up old Ford, blast whatever metal station he can find and drive aimlessly through the desert till he’s calm or the truck gives out, one or the other.

Today, the source of his anger is Mike Trimbol, who not only blew him off for a girl named Stacey--a awful name in Troy’s opinion, just a skip from Tracey--but also insinuated things about Troy’s behavior; namely, that he was a fag. Mike had spit the word in his face, hissing it like venom, and Troy had to get out of there before he shot Mike in the head just to spite him. Troy wasn’t homo, not that he was exactly straight either, it’s not like he was Mike who jumped into bed with any girl with a pulse. He just thought he and Mike had a connection. Fuck him for being attracted to people that he finds interesting.

So there he was, driving hard and fast through the desert when a wolf came running out in front of him, making him brake so hard, he’s sure the engine fell out just from the force of it. He’s out of his truck faster than a roadrunner, bearing down on the animal like it purposely came after him, finding it easier to shout at something that will inevitably run away. “What the fuck is your problem?!” he yells at it, and it just stares at him. “You just run out in front of fucking cars? That’s how you get run over! Piece of shit.”

The wolf, and Troy takes a moment to be awed that it is a wolf, just blinks at him before sitting, as if it’s tired of standing. Troy sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking the creature over, realizing, with a bit of shock, it resembles a Mexican gray wolf, except that it’s fur is near black in color. It’s has the same character features of one though, the german shepard like look to him, elongated snout and pointed ears, full fluff tail, if not a bit on the large size when it came to a gray wolf. By his count, there had to be, roughly, a hundred of the animals left in the world and one has apparently decided to run out in front of his truck.

“So, dumbass, what are you doing out here?” he asks, and it snarls at him, as if it fully understands what he’s saying. Then, not even a second later, it seems to sigh, a snort, moving to lay down on the ground as if dealing with Troy is inconveniencing him. He moves with careful grace, putting his weight on his left front paw as he lowers himself to the ground, his right curled up against his fur, hanging somewhat limp. “You hurt yourself?” Troy asks, and takes a step forward; the wolf bears his teeth.

“Look here, asshole, you’re clearly hurt, so either you can lay there, whimpering like a bitch, or let me take a look at it,” and for that Troy thinks the wolf literally rolls its eyes at him before closing them, holding his paw out for Troy’s inspection. Troy kneels down, taking the paw in his hand, looking it over, seeing no visible signs of breakage, meaning it was likely a sprain or bruising. He ran his fingers over the leg till the wolf gave a yelp, bearing its teeth at him again. “Yeah, bet that hurt,” he taunted. “I’ve never wrapped a dog’s leg before,” and the wolf snaps at him for that. “But I can take you back to the ranch, wrap this up for you, wait till your healed then we can cook you for dinner.”

The wolf is not amused by Troy’s humor, and snap’s dangerously close to Troy’s hand, to which Troy laughs; this wolf has got attitude.

“Alright, I’m gonna pick you up, you bite at me and I’ll drop your ass,” Troy warns, moving forward, sliding his arms under the wolf’s torso, lifting him up slowly, groaning under the wolf’s weight. “Ease up on the deer, you fat ass,” he tells him, holding him out like a bomb, the wolf’s legs dangling as it watches Troy with something akin to amusement.

Troy walks the wolf back to his truck, going around to the back, hoisting him over the edge to place him in the bed. “It’s a bumpy ride back, so get comfortable,” he warns before going around, climbing back into the driver’s seat. The motor is still running, the music still blaring loudly, and he finds it funny that he didn’t even cognitively register it the entire time he was out in the open desert playing nurse to a wolf.

At least his anger is forgotten.

*

He picks one of the safe houses his dad built on the ranch in case of the end of the world. They’re not the height of luxury, but they have a bed, a first aid kit, enough for a wolf to at least be comfortable and bonus that Jeremiah never comes out to them. Troy takes the wolf to the furthest one from the main house, pulling up to it, killing the engine before going around and pulling the bed down, the wolf ambling over as if to show Troy he could do it on his own.

He hops down, falling forward on his snout as he attempts to avoid putting weight on his right leg; Troy laughs.

“You stubborn shit,” Troy says, reaching down, lifting the wolf again, this time like a child, placing a hand under it’s butt, putting him over his shoulder. The wolf huffs, like he knows exactly what Troy’s doing and Troy bounces him, signing rock-a-bye-baby under his breath as he walks in; he feels a tooth dig into his shoulder in warning.

He walks him in, placing him on the bed, going for the first aid kit in the bedside draw. “I’ll wrap this leg, you can chill here till you feel like leaving, okay?”

He gets out the gauze, tape, everything he needs to make a makeshift cast for the animal. Troy takes the leg, pulling it out straight to the yelp and growl from the creature. He starts at the bottom, rolling the white gauze up the length of the leg straight to the bend to still offer him range of motion in the leg. It’s the blue gauze next, tight enough to keep the leg in place, not so tight he’s cutting off circulation. Troy cuts it off, taping it down for him. “There you go, a couple days and you can run free. Don’t kill our horses.”

Before Troy leaves him, he pats the wolf’s head, promising to be back with water.

*

He doesn’t leave.

Troy is able to physically count the days. Seven. Seven total since the day he brought the wolf back to the ranch.

Seven days that he comes by to bring a bucket of water for lack of a better thing to put it in. He’s not sure what the wolf is eating, but Troy thinks they might be a few desert hares short now and he thinks there’s some food missing from the store house, but that could be any number of people taking it. The thought of a wolf, though, hunting for human food amused Troy, in the same way that the wolf’s eye rolls amused Troy.

It’s probably why he didn’t mind that day in and day out, the wolf remained, curled up on the bed with its cheap cotton sheets. Troy came to offer him water, and would sit there, and just ramble about his day and the wolf actually seemed to listen. Whether he was talking about a pissed off chicken chasing him, or about the day’s episode of Jeopardy, it listened. In a way, over seven days, Troy had somehow appointed the wolf as his go to anger therapist. Every time he felt the urge to murder Mike, he went to the wolf, and talked out all his anger. He shouldn’t be friends with Mike--the wolf gives him a ‘no shit’ look--but he can’t help himself. “I don’t have anybody in my life,” Troy confesses, the day he removes the bandages from the wolf’s leg. “Mike is the only person that didn’t treat me like a freak when we were kids and now--”

It’s not even two days later that Troy wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of claws against wood. The wolf has somehow got into his house, walked upstairs, and stands in his doorway, looking at him, eyes glowing in the night. Troy doesn’t say anything, the wolf makes no sound, just walks over, hops up on Troy’s bed and makes himself comfortable. Troy is a side sleeper, so the animal makes himself comfortable against the bend in Troy’s back, pushing against him, almost snuggling.

That’s the way life goes. After dark, the wolf sneaks into Troy’s room, and hops up into bed like he owns it; Troy just starts to scoot over to accommodate him.

After three weeks of their oddly symbiotic relationship--Troy brings the animal water, the occasional slice of beef, and in turn the wolf listens to him complain--Troy decides he wants to talk out more of his latent issues with his family. So he does just that, laying in bed, combing his fingers through the wolf’s black fur and talking. “I was stupid, I guess, I wanted her love, even though she hurt me, locked in me in the basement, it’s like, my brain couldn’t take no for an answer….most days I’m glad she drank herself to death.

Jake..I love Jake. Feel like he’s the only one that loves me, but some days I hate him for leaving me, going off to San Diego and getting an education and leaving because dad isn't afraid of him. I feel angry all the time, I hurt things, people, but dad always told me mom loved me, that he loves me, even when they hurt me….he hasn’t said he loves me since I was twelve though. I messed up, gave the chickens the wrong feed, he grabbed a riding crop and beat me with it, said. I'm teaching you a lesson because I love you, Troy. Fuck, he was probably drunk..he’s always drunk.”

After that night, the wolf--and Troy thinks he needs something to call him other than wolf--refuses to leave his side. That morning, when Troy goes downstairs for breakfast his new companion/therapy wolf is right behind him, prancing down like he owns the place. His dad is sitting at the table, enjoy his six am liquid breakfast, waiting for Troy to fix them some bacon and eggs before they get out there to help the ranch hands.

“The hell is that?” he grumbles, looking at the wolf, sneering.

“A friend,” Troy answers, going to the stove, place a small frying pan on the unit before lighting it. He pours oil to heat it before going for the fridge, pulling out the eggs, and the paper wrap of bacon. He clicks on the large skillet, placing six pieces of bacon on it, before going for the eggs, cracking two in the sizzling oil. The wolf is behind him, head towards Jeremiah as Troy cooks; flip the bacon, push the oil over the eggs. It’s a practiced motion till the bacon is nice and crisp, the eggs over easy, three pieces going to each plate, the eggs going to Troy’s; his dad was a fan of Troy eating cold food. He goes for the eggs again and is stopped by a growl.

He looks down and wolf is looking up at him, growling as he reaches for the eggs. “I have to cook dad’s eggs.”

He growls again, and then, to be a little punk, he hops up on the counter and eats Jeremiah’s bacon in one drag of his tongue, munching it happily with a wide wolfish grin. “You mutt!” Jeremiah exclaims, throwing the glass at him, the pint size Walmart cup shattering. While behavior like this doesn’t even phase Troy, the wolf seems enraged. He turns on Jeremiah, hackles raised, hair standing up as he advances dangerously forward, lips pulled back over his teeth, sharp, ready to rip.

Jeremiah backs up slowly, reaching behind him, looking for a gun that Troy is surprised isn’t there anymore; he wonders where that went to, considering only he knew his dad’s hiding places. He’s drunk, but he’s afraid, because if wolves could talk, this one was all but screaming, “I’ll rip your face off.”

“Troy,” Jeremiah snaps.

For one brief moment, that dark part of Troy’s mind clicks on, and he thinks life would be so much easier if he just let it happen; let’s Jeremiah Otto die right here and now. Then, that other part of his brain clicks on, and tells him Jeremiah is all he has left. Tracey is dead, and Jake is off in the city, being a lawyer, living the good life, and it feels like nothing short of the end of the world will bring him back to the ranch. He can’t let the wolf kill the last thing he has so he whistles, and the wolf straightens, looking back at him like, “are you fucking kidding me?”

“Don’t.”

He sighs, huffs, before snapping menacingly in Jeremiah’s direction before returning to Troy’s side. Assuming his wolf friend doesn’t want him preparing breakfast for his father, he grabs his plate and heads to the dinner table.

*

“You know, if you’re sticking around, you need a name,” Troy decides. It’s been over a month since he found the wolf, and he was like a permanent fixture now. Where Troy went, he went, whether that be to collect eggs, slop the pigs, take the cows to graze, or let the horses out; he was a good little hearder wolf too, made the cows fall in line. Even Jeremiah fell in line under the wolf’s command, making his own breakfast, and dinner, or sticking to liquid if he didn’t want to cook, leaving Troy to make food solely for himself; a new concept.

“How about Wolfie?”

The wolf hums a hard negative against Troy’s lap where his head lay.

“Blackie? Spottie? Bastard?” he suggests, and that one gets a nip in the leg; he yelps with a laugh. “Okay, so you don’t like any of those names. Then you suggest one, asshole! Or that’s what I’m calling you, asshole,” he says affectionately, rubbing the wolf behind the ears.

The wolf barks, a crisp clean sound, more dog than wolf, Troy thinks. Either way, it puts a name in his head, like some kind of magic, a voice in his head suggests the name Nick. It almost sounds real for a second, the low timber, soft, but soothing, kind of mocking like the wolf’s gestures; how strange.

“How about Nicky?” Troy offers, and his wolf licks his hand. “Nicky it is but you’re still an asshole.”

*

Two months Nicky has been living with him by the time Jake comes to visit, or more accurately, Jake is dealing with another land dispute and they just happen to be on his way.

He’s all smiles when he pulls up, offering big armed hugs for Troy and firm handshakes for their dad. Nicky is off somewhere--wherever it is he goes when he’s out of Troy’s sight--so he’s not present when Jake offers to go inside for some tea. Apparently, Jake’s time in the city has turned him into a tea drinker, and encourages Troy to try the organic green and black leaves he’s brought from San Diego. He boils water in a pot before telling them about his life. “I’ve started dating someone, Chastity, she works with animal rescues.”

“Is she chaste?” Troy asks, because who names their kid that in this day.

“Troy,” Jake sighs. “She’s very nice. She’s twenty-seven, speaks three languages, and is very passionate about marine life, particularly dolphins.”

“You have pictures of her?” Jeremiah asks. Troy recognizes this tactic of shrewdly asking about all the women Jake dates, or specifically, what race they are.

Jake sees it too, and shakes his head. “She’s multicultural.”

Jeremiah hums, eyes narrowing. “So, she’s negro.”

Jake sighs again, even louder. “Dad, it doesn’t matter what race she is. I like her, and for your edification, her mom is white and hispanic, her dad is black and native american.”

“Well, she’s just a got bit of everything then, did she?” Jeremiah spits out, looking around for his bourbon, that had seemingly disappeared in the last three days. Troy was starting to notice that his dad would leave the bottle in his study and it would suddenly be outside. The bottle would be on the living room table and end up on top of the fridge, as if someone was playing a crazy game of keep away.

“Dad, enough,” Jake bites out. He clearly has something else to say, but is interrupted by Nicky coming in through the open patio door. It’s always left open for him now, after Jeremiah closed it, hoping to lock him out. Nicky had somehow still got inside, only to end up on Jeremiah’s bed, growling threateningly at him, so now, during the day, Nicky could come and go as he pleases, and at night, it was made sure he was inside before locking up. “What is that?” Jake questions, voice pitching.

Troy glances over, beaming at Nicky when he answers, “My therapy dog.”

Nicky doesn’t appreciate being called a dog.

“Troy, that’s a Mexican gray wolf. That is clearly a Mexican gray wolf. Why is there a Mexican gray wolf traipsing into the living room?” he asked, eyes wide, looking between Nicky, Troy, and then their father who looked at Nicky with his usual trepidation.

“Because, he’s my therapy dog,” Troy says, exasperated, having just explained that. Nicky takes that moment to come to Troy, nipping him for the dog comment before hoping up onto the couch between him and Jake, pushing Jake over a bit with his hind legs to settle on Troy’s lap.

“Troy, there’s less than a hundred Mexican gray wolves in the wild, period. They’re a highly endangered species and the few that exist tend to migrate into Arizona, New Mexico, one was spotted in Texas, but not California! Do you know have many are left total in the world? Less than two hundred and most are in rehabilitation, zoos, facilities, trying to help them survive,” he says like he’s the utmost authority on wolves. “Shit, if there’s gray wolves in California there has to be less than ten! Less than five even! Did you steal a Mexican gray wolf? Please tell me you didn’t steal a gray wolf? I don't know how to defend that at trial,” he laments and Nicky huffs.

Troy scratches at his head, leaning down to kiss him affectionately, laying his head against Nicky’s who seems to stick his tongue out at Jake. “I didn’t steal him. We have a relationship. I give him a cozy bed, water, he gives me company. Unlike certain other individuals in this room.”

Jake gives him a, ‘not right now’, look before turning his attention to the snoozing wolf. “Do you know what the Department of Fish and Wildlife would say about this? Troy, you need to let him go free before you get arrested for this.”

“He is free to go,” Troy frowns, hand firm in Nicky’s fur. “But he likes me, so he stays. God forbid somebody actually like me, Jakey.”

“It’s a wild animal.”

“He’s my friend,” Troy says with finality, moving his arms to slide under Nick, lifting him up and over his shoulders, the wolf sagging against him, pulling his legs in to make the carry more feasible. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.”

“Troy!” Jake tries to call after him, but Troy doesn’t heed the call. Troy has what he needs. He has Nick, that’s all he needs.

*

“Troy..” Jake tries for the sixth time in the two days since he arrived. The fourth time since he’s walked into Troy’s room to find him sitting on his bed, reading, with Nick draped across him like a living blanket. The third of him coming into the living room with Nicky wandering listlessly in and out, shooting glares at Jeremiah as he goes. It’s become common place for them, but Jake sees it as unusual behavior, confirmed by his girlfriend when he explains what the wolf is doing.

Two days, and it’s a constant argument, sunup to sundown. Miss Chastity says that Nick has begun to think of Troy as pack, which is highly dangerous because then he’s less likely to go out to find a female wolf to mate with and insure the continuation of the species. Troy, bluntly, asks what she knows about it when Jake said she works with marine life, not Mexican grey wolves. She’s undeterred, and assures Troy that he needs to take Nick back to where he found him and let him go back into the wild; Troy, selfishly, doesn’t want to.

It comes to a head on the third day--the day before Jake has to leave to get back to law--when Jake proclaims that he’s going to take Nick back himself, and let him free.

“No! Jake!” Troy shouts, and if he were a child, he’d stomp his foot. Instead, he settles on keeping a hand on Nick to keep himself calm.

“We can get you a service dog, Troy, a German Shepard, if you like, they’re a close kin to wolves, and it’ll be properly trained and not endangered,” Jake tries, but Troy won’t hear it. He doesn’t want a German Shepard, he has Nick.

“You’re not taking Nick from me,” he says resolutely, even if he’s being infantile. “No one is. This isn’t going to be a repeat of Colonel Cluckers,” Troy glares, looking at his father who narrows his own eyes. It wasn’t going to be a repeat of his childhood, not again. He hadn’t even been that particularly close to the red hen he fondly called Colonel Cluckers, but he’d been five, and on a ‘naming thing’ run around the farm, naming everything from the chickens to the horses to the cows; Colonel Cluckers just happened to like him. Naturally, Jeremiah had to teach Troy a lesson early on in life, and had taken him out to rip the chicken’s head off in front him, one quick snap, before proceeding to paddle Troy for crying over the death of the bird.

“You’ve always been weak, Troy,” his father decides to pipe in, a bottle of whiskey in hand. “You needed to learn a lesson. It was a damn chicken, you’re to soft. You should be a man, take that wolf out back and put a bullet in it’s head! For once in your life, be a damn man!” Jeremiah spews. “Then again, what can you expect of a fag?”

“Dad!” Jake exclaims, and Nick sits up, ear perking, hackles beginning to raise in warning.

Jeremiah smirks vindictively, nodding, “Oh yeah, the Trimbol boy told me all about your affections. No wonder you never took to the whore I bought you. Spend good money on you to become a man, and all this time you’re an ass chasing fairy!”

Nick moves before any of them does, pouncing on Jeremiah, knocking the chair backwards, the man shouting. Both Jake and Troy are on their feet, startling back at the sound of a gunshot, their eyes widening on the man hovering over Jeremiah whose eyes are closed, chest moving a thousand miles a minute; Troy wouldn’t be surprised if he has a hard attack. Admittedly, Troy is about to have a heart attack at the sight of the man standing over him, gun in hand, bullet hole just to the right of Jeremiah Otto’s temple; a warning shot.

“The next one, goes in your head,” the man says, the same voice Troy had heard in his head that day he decided on a name.

“You’re human,” Troy says, Nick turning to look at him. He’s not naked, like Troy would expect of someone that shifts shapes, but dressed in baggy jeans and a white tshirt. His hair is black, slicked back, which has to explain the color of his fur and suddenly the moving liquor makes sense, the missing food, the doors that opened by themselves; it was all Nick.

Nick glances at them before jumping off Jeremiah, smoothly transitioning back into the wolf form Troy had known for these past months, looking up at him as if he were saying, “Human? I see no human here!”

“Nick, I just saw you! Jake just saw you!”

“I don't know what I just saw,” Jake blinks, looking to their fallen father who seemed to have fallen asleep despite the madness going on around him, curled up in the overturned chair. “It defies logic.”

“Nick, come on, don’t bullshit us, asshole. You can shape shift?!” Troy demands and Nick still just gives him wide eyes as if he’s saying, ‘Nope, can’t do that, innocent little wolf here.’ “Nick!”

Nick looks at him before turning tail, heading upstairs without a sound, the creak of Troy’s door upstairs audible in the stunned silence. Troy doesn’t even spare a thought to his brother, his father, merely takes off after the man wolf, taking the steps two at a time till he reaches the landing. He enters his room, seeing the same man that had just stood over his father, sitting on Troy’s bed, pulling at the comforter; Troy closes the door. “So..”

“I’m not apologizing,” Nick says bluntly. “Fuck off if you think I should.”

“You’ve been in my room after I’ve showered.”

“Only twice!” Nick defends. “Once because I was sleeping and you just happened to walk in here in a towel and the second time because I didn’t know you were changing when I came in. It’s not like I stay in wolf form to stare at people naked.”

“Explain,” Troy says.

Nick sighs, laying back on Troy’s bed--the bed they’ve been sharing--arms spread out. “I don’t know. I’ve always been a wolf. My mom is one, my sister, my dad was, it’s just normal to me. Don’t expect some full moon bullshit explanation because there’s not one. I don’t actually know much about why we’re this way, I’m kind of a loner.”

“So there was no pack when i found you.”

“Nope. In my wolf skin I can commune with other wolves perfectly, and it helps to not confuse them, so I came looking for other wolves. Arizona, New Mexico, along the Mexicali border, I didn’t exactly know where to look, I just came to look. I stepped in a fucking prairie dog hole, or whatever that damn thing was, and it took my ass out, fucked up my paw and then you’re dumbass almost ran me over.”

‘You ran out in front of my truck!” Troy argues.

Nick sits up, eyebrow raised. “You were doing donuts in the middle of the damn desert.”

“I saved your ass!”

“Fuck you. I would have been fine. The nearest city was only thirty miles away. I didn’t need you,” Nick bites out, narrowing his eyes on Troy.

“Yeah? Then why did you dumbass stay, you could have left at any point.”

Nick shrugged. ‘Depends, you gonna hit me if I say it’s because you were lonely. No offense, Troy, but your life sucks. Your father is a dick, your brother is well meaning but he’s got his own life, that Mike guy? Don’t even get me started there. I just thought you could use a friend, so I stuck around. Besides, I don’t have anyone either so..”

“You just said you had a mom and a sister, that sounds like family,” Troy says, sitting down next to Nick, the man scooting closer to him, probably out of habit. This is confirmed when he instinctively lays his head on Troy’s shoulder.

“Operative words there. My sister is a lot like your brother, she’s well meaning, and she was my best friend for years, but she’s at Berkley and she’ll be a doctor or a writer, or cure cancer and I’m, well, a junkie that got expelled from a community college,” Nick tells him. “Or, I was a junkie, haven’t shot up in over a year. Hard to maintain a high when I’ve taken to being a wolf for longer periods. Either way, my sister means well, she loves me, we’re just on different paths.

My mom, well, I think she blames me for my dad’s death. Not that she’s ever going to come out and say that, of course. I was in rehab the first time when dad died, I got out, she started smacking me around and I went back to the drugs. I guess, it’s naturally my nature to seek pack and when my family wasn’t pack I sought it out in other junkies and dealers and it was just a vicious cycle. Rehab, beatings, back to the drugs, over and over, till I finally said, fuck it, and left.”

“And you wandered here,” Troy deduces.

“San Diego first. Looked into the rescue efforts of wolves, so I kind of got an idea where I was going. Talked to a few wolves living in the zoo. A couple of them, are more than happy living the cushy life. Told me, humans think they’re the ones watching them, when really they’re watching the humans, they find it hilarious. A few that were itching to come back out to the wild gave me a general direction and that’s how I ended up out here.”

“Then I found you.”

Nick nodded. “We’re pack creatures, even in human form. You patched me up, gave me water. I mean, I stole food, but you did more for me than most people have. Guess it’s natural I just started thinking of you as pack. Now, it would kind of hurt to leave, because wolves don’t exactly abandon their pack.”

“And I’m pack?” Troy asked, tilting his head just slightly to lay against Nick’s; it felt comfortable.

“It’s why I protected you. I wasn’t threatening Jeremiah, if he hurts you, I’ll kill him. Pack don’t exactly like when other pack are attacked. Besides..as your alpha..”

“Oh? You’re my alpha,” Troy questioned, pulling away to make Nick stare him dead in the eyes. “Since when?”

“Since the moment I found you, shithead, as the only wolf in the room, naturally, I’m the alpha and you’re the beta, accept that.”

“Like hell,” Troy scoffed, pushing Nick, setting off a tussling match that had them rolling around on the bed, attempting to pin the other. Nick was fast, quick, using his slighter frame to his advantage to hook Troy around the knee, and force him to his back. Troy’s always been a fighter and doesn’t give up that easy, going for the arm around the neck, using his leverage to attempt to wrestle Nick to his back. It’s a mad back and forth of limbs that ends with more than a few punches thrown, and an unfair wolf advantage as Nick bares down on him, all razor sharp teeth, lips peeled back, chords rumbling threateningly as he orders Troy to back down in wolf.

Troy concedes but only because the bastard has an unfair advantage. When Nick changes back, he’s all smirks, and beams, pride at his solidified alpha status. With the man above him, Troy can’t help but think how attractive he is, how beautiful he is, not just in appearance but in heart. This man had listened to him, comforted him, loved him, when Troy thought he had no one and that made Troy endlessly attracted to him. Not only that, Nick was an absolute piece of shit, and Troy respected that.

Troy brushes Nick’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear, finger stroking down his cheek. He didn’t know if they’d be okay, if their relationship would work now that he knew Nick’s wolfy little secret but he was willing to try. He was willing to do anything to keep his Nicky. “Begs the question, Nicky,” he whispers, leaning forward, pecking Nick’s lips softly. “Is it bestiality?”

“You asshole!” Nick glares, pushing him away, Troy falling off the bed with a thud to the wooden floor; both of them dissolve into laughter.

***four months later***

“Damnit, Nick, really?” Troy asked, looking at the hare, bloody, dripping on the floor, snared firmly in Nick’s jaw. Nick drops it before sliding back to human form, picking up the rabbit, holding it out to Troy.

“Humans eat rabbit too, you know?” Nick says, placing the bunny on the counter top, walking over to peck Troy on the cheek. “I try to bring you gifts…”

“You bring bloody rabbits into the house and drag blood in. Swear to god, we ever get raided by the FBI they’ll think I’ve murdered fifty people in here.”

“That’s why you have me to hide the bodies,” Nick beamed.

Troy shook his head. Four months. It had been four months since the big reveal of one Nicholas Clark. Four months and Troy had grown a back bone, and told his father to fuck right off, even if he shook like a leaf when he did it. Four months and he’d renovated their old family home and made it a home for him and Nick. It wasn’t as huge as the main house, but it had a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, enough for them to live happily. To curl up together on the couch and watch the three local channels Troy could pick up, or when Nick begged, Netflix; forcing Troy to pay for the subscription so they could watch more than daytime soaps and game shows.

Mike was no longer a problem. Turns out, when a wolf snarls menacingly at you, you back off. Troy had to appreciate it, since Mike was all apologies for lashing out at Troy when it ended with Stacey. He wanted back in Troy’s good graces but Nick wasn’t having any of it; Troy was his beta, after all.

For once in his life, Troy felt like he was charging ahead on his own road. Like being pack with Nick somehow made him stronger, made them stronger. He didn’t have to be scared, or angry, he could just live and take every day one at a time and just be.

“I can visibly see you thinking,” Nick tells him, wrapping his arms around him. “I can hear your heart.”

“Was just thinking,” Troy started, turning a grin on Nick, digging in his pocket, pulling out the large dog sized collar he’d bought in San Ysidro; blue with purple polka dots. “Is it really bestiality?”

He laughed as Nick bit his shoulder in retaliation of that question, and the insulting collar. Troy would be paying for that later, he was assured.

Yeah. They would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~! As always, all kudos and comments are super appreciated.


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